


common ground

by wolfoncaffeine



Series: brave the storm for its lightning [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, non-graphic animal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 09:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20928020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfoncaffeine/pseuds/wolfoncaffeine
Summary: “What’s your problem with the Dalish - allergic to halla?”Aka a re-hash of the Dalish talk, specific to Eirlana Lavellan.





	common ground

Perched on a boulder, Eirlana watched a hare creep towards her trap.

“Tell me rabbit’s better than tack.” Varric grumbled, tending to his crossbow.

“It is,” she answered, not bothering to correct him.

As the hare hopped within reach of the berries, the lightning trap sprang. The animal collapsed, dead instantly.

“A peculiar use of magic,” Solas commented, standing.

Eirlana hopped off the boulder. “It’s simpler than a snare. And less cruel.” She walked downslope, her companions following, and knelt beside the hare. “Andruil ghilan ma,” she said and began tying it to her belt with twine.

“Varric, you do not need to keep looking at me like that.”

“Like you didn’t forcefully drag me across the Waking Sea?”

“I did not drag you anywhere.”

“Hmm, you’re right. It was more shoving than dragging.”

“I did not --!”

“Thanks for waiting,” Eirlana broke in, spinning to her feet, one hand steadying the hare.

Varric shot her a wink. “Nice catch, Snowdrop.”

Cassandra gaped, then her expression sharpened to a glare. “Varric,” she growled.

“What now, Seeker?” he sighed.

“You cannot call the Herald of Andraste by a nickname.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you can’t, but not all of us are burdened by propriety.”

“Why Snowdrop?” Eirlana asked before Cassandra could retort.

“Because that’s you,” he said, as if that was answer enough. “It fits.”

“Does it?”

“Sure! Later-winter flowers, right?”

She hummed. “Yeah. When all of this started.”

“Regardless of its meaning,” Cassandra cut in, “a nickname isn’t appropriate.”

Eirlana raised her hands off her hips, placating. “Cassandra, it’s okay. At least out of the public eye.”

The Seeker’s mouth thinned to a line, but she nodded. “Very well. Let’s move on.”

Swallowing a sigh, Eirlana gestured back towards the road. “Lead the way.”

Side by side, yet with five feet between them, Cassandra and Varric walked ahead.

Eirlana followed at a slower pace, unbalanced by the fifteen-pound hare.

“Is it customary,” Solas began, falling in at her shoulder, “for your people to pray to Andruil after the hunt is complete?”

“It is.” She glanced at him and found nothing revealing in his expression. “And the reason behind your question?”

“Simple curiosity.”

“You didn’t spend long with any Dalish clan, I presume.”

“A correct presumption,” he answered, a trace of steel in his tone.

She hesitated. During the trek from Haven, the atmosphere between them had shifted from tense to companionable and back again as their conversations shifted from magical techniques to his travels to the People. Once, she had asked about his time with the Dalish, hoping to understand why the encounters had soured, only for him to dismiss the matter. And yet, he’d wanted to share his knowledge and learn theirs in turn. Surely they could find common ground. Or at least less uncertain ground.

Counting down from three, she took a deep breath. “You clearly value our heritage. Any opinions to share on elven culture?”

“I thought you would be more interested in sharing your opinions of elven culture,” he said, voice hardening further. “You are Dalish, are you not?”

She laughed, short and sharp. “Ah, vallaslin give me away?” At that, his eyes narrowed in the beginning of a glower. She stopped and nearly stumbled from the hare swung away from her. “Forgive my bluntness,” she said as he halted, “but what’s your problem with the Dalish — allergic to halla?”

He turned to face her, scowl sharp. “You are children acting out stories, misheard and repeated wrongly a thousand times.”

“And you know the truth, oh wanderer of ruins?”

His jaw clenched. “Yes. While you pass on stories, mangling details, I walk the Fade. I have seen things you have not.”

“It is not for our lack of trying, _hahren_,” she hissed, leaning hard on the honorific. “Do you know how many Dalish mages ache to be dreamers yet can’t because there’s no one skilled enough to teach them? Do you know how many shem cities are built nearby or even atop elven ruins? Do you know how shems usually react to finding elves poking around near their settlements? Or even in the middle of fucking nowhere? Do —” She cut herself off and focused on the Anchor, its pulses echoing in her teeth. She’d nearly been shouting. “Do you know what it’s like,” she continued slowly, “to struggle so much for so little?”

His scowl softened. “Not as you do.”

“As I don’t know what it’s like to face rejection as you did.” She glanced down the slope, at their companions who hadn’t noticed their halt, and back to him. “The fall of Arlathan was followed by enslavement, and the fall of the Dales by subjugation; you can’t have forgotten that cultural oppression is inseparable from both of those horrors.”

After a beat of silence, he said, “No, of course not.”

“Passing on stories and scouring ruins is all we have left. We are trying, with what little we have. Accept that.” Something flickered in his eyes, gone too quick for her to catch. “And if the Dalish have insulted you, I would amend that as best I can.”

He dipped his head. “The fault is mine, for expecting what could never truly be accomplished. Ir abelas. Ma serannas.”

“For what?”

“For offering.”

“I don’t want the People’s efforts dismissed, Solas. But I also don’t want us to be hostile.”

“Because I appear to be the only individual with any understanding of the Anchor?”

“That and you’re kind. You didn’t have to remain with the Inquisition or lessen the pain in my hand.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I am merely ensuring my own safety.”

“Perhaps. Thank you, by the way, for calming the anchor and watching over me.” She extended her right hand toward him. “I appreciate it, truly.”

He clasped her hand, his own warm and calloused. “You are welcome. If I can offer any knowledge, you have but to ask.”

“Snowdrop! Chuckles!”

She looked down the slope, to where Varric and Cassandra stood on the path, and dropped his hand. “I will. For now, we should catch up before they start arguing again.”

“A situation best avoided,” he agreed and walked beside her down the hill.

“You two alright?” Varric asked as they approached.

Eirlana nodded. “Just chatting.”

Varric glanced between them, then clapped his hands. “C’mon, let’s find ourselves a tavern. I’ve had enough outdoors for one day.”

**Author's Note:**

> Andruil ghilan ma: Andruil guide you


End file.
